Red Magic - Jean Rabe [105]
"Death," said a shape that had assumed Brenna's form. The thing's haunting tones seemed at once to come from behind and in front of her. "We are death shrouded in darkness. Sweet, sweet darkness." The thing laughed again, the sound echoing in the night until it finally receded like a tide.
"Sweet death," another of the strange creatures echoed. Then another and another took up the phrase until the words blended together and sounded like a swarm of insects.
The sorceress wondered how the things could speak. The creatures had no mouths, nor indeed any other visible facial features. Gathering her courage, she turned and was startled to find herself mere inches from one of the creatures.
"How-" Her voice cracked and she shivered. "How do you talk?"
More haunting laughter followed, then a raspy voice filtered through the terrifying cacophony. "The death master makes it so. The death master makes the grave only the beginning. The death master makes us strong."
"What are you?" Brenna persisted, surprised she found the courage to speak with the undead.
"Wraiths," the word sounded like a rush of wind and came from the figure closest to Brenna. "Mankind's lover. We embrace men with the soothing kiss of death."
"Soothing death," the others echoed.
"We are the takers of souls, the shapers of destinies, the dark powers mortals fear. We are wraiths. And we hate humans because they are the possessors of life."
"Human life," the wraiths echoed eerily over and over.
"But we will help you humans," intoned a deep-voiced speaker. "The master bade us leave the caressing recesses of our graves to help you."
"Brenna! Galvin! I'm scared!" Wynter's voice cut through the haunting banter.
Galvin whirled his horse about and dug his heels in its sides to urge it through the crowd of wraiths. The stallion protested, feeling the cold touch of the creatures, but obeyed nevertheless. Galvin felt an unearthly chill as his mount passed near the bodies of several wraiths and finally found Wynter surrounded by a ring of the dark undead.
"Galvin?" Wynter whimpered.
The wraiths mocked the centaur, hovering around and above him, taunting him.
Galvin nudged his mount closer until he reached Wynter's side. His once-strong, confident friend was trembling and broken. Once again Galvin found himself wishing the plant had killed the centaur.
The druid growled defiantly at the disgusting undead creatures, thrusting out an arm in an attempt to push one aside. But Galvin's hand passed straight through the inky body. It felt as if he had submerged his fingers in an icy spring.
He growled again, this time his voice sounding more like a wild animal than a human, and the undead finally backed away.
"Take my hand, Wyn," the druid said gently, his emerald green eyes locked onto the closest undead. "Come with me." The centaur whimpered in fright, then followed Galvin timidly toward the front of the procession.
"You said you were here to help us!" the druid cursed at the undead. "Then help us. Leave Wynter alone!" He noticed the centaur relax a little as the forms dropped back several yards.
"They did as you said," Brenna whispered in surprise.
"For now, at least," Galvin observed. "Stay close to Wynter and keep moving toward the city." The druid slowed his stallion until the first few wraiths were even with him.
He glared at them and marshaled his fear of the strange creatures. "Maligor's army will be strong," the druid began. "How can you help us against the gnolls?"
"We drink life," one moaned. "We drink the essence of man, leaving behind only decayed husks. Husks to wither and crumble and blow away on the hot breeze. Husks to fertilize our graves." The creature held up its black hands, which appeared to have long talons. "We rake life, clawing, tearing, spilling life's blood on the ground, on us."
"Humans first," another added in a raspy whisper. "Always humans first because their life is so short and sweet."
"Sweet death," the assembled wraiths murmured.
Shivering from the cold air that surrounded